


Pride on the Floor

by PyroKitten



Series: Of Love and War: In the Trenches [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: BDSM, F/M, Have fun with smut/erotica, I have parts of the next three chapters done, I should really work on the GF fic, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, This is technically erotica?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-25
Updated: 2018-04-25
Packaged: 2019-04-27 22:04:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14435049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PyroKitten/pseuds/PyroKitten
Summary: Metz has hit a dry spell in her life. She turns to the only man she knows might be able to help her talk through it, and gets a bit more than she asked for.





	Pride on the Floor

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally not supposed to have plot. Sorry. I should really be working on my GF piece instead (no, it’s not dead), but this kind of happened because I’m a horrible person and like playing around with some of my OCs. If you like it, awesome. If not, oh well, I had fun writing it.

    If I were ever honest with myself, I’d realize that I’m not comfortable with the position I take in my sex life. I’m not the kind of person who always wants to be in charge. That’s all I do in my day to day life, after all. My favorite moments have always been the aftercare, cuddling my chosen partner for the night.

    But when is anyone honest?

    So I’m discussing shit with a friend who’s not as hush hush about sexual activities as most the rest of them.

    He just _has_ to have the answer.

    “So, a dry spell?” His tone is light, joking in the slightest. Like he doesn’t believe me.

    I swirl my whiskey and take another sip.

    “It happens, but yeah.” I glance away, tugging at the sleeve of my overcoat.

    “Your nervous tick says otherwise hon.” The note of mirth has disappeared completely, similar to my poor whiskey. Maybe he’ll buy me another...

    “So what if it does? It’s not like it matters.” My words are biting, but he’s known me long enough at this point to know _that’s just me._

    “Metz, that ain’t normal for ya. Ya know that as well as I do. Hell, I’d reckon you’ve had more lays than I have, an’ I’m older.” He smiles gently. It’s not meant to be demeaning. It better fucking not be at least.

    “... And? Maybe I’m just getting older. It happens to the best of us.” I stare at the ice, refusing to meet what I know to be worried hazel eyes. Fucker is probably laughing internally-

    “Metz.” I look up. Not because I want to, but because he hooks a finger under my chin and forces me to. His smile sends a wave of heat marching across my face. “I don’t think it’s that hon. Ya might just need a change of scenery. Let me try somethin’, yeah?”

    I squint my eyes at him. He’s a dom as well, the fuck could he offer? “What’s your play Tybalt?”

    His hands retreat to his sides and raise above his head in a placating gesture. “Nothin’. C’mon, I think ya need another drink. You were glarin’ at that ice like it murdered your family.”

    I shrug it off, grumbling as I follow him. A drink is a-

    Suddenly I’m pulled into the hallway between us and the bar. He’s crowded me in, trapping me against a wall. What the actual fuck. He wouldn’t normally do this. Why is he playing the dominant for me?

    … Why is that thought so exciting?

    He steps back, chuckling. “Sorry Metz, someone was gonna run inta us. Had to do that.”

    “Bullshit. The fuck is your play Lazarus?” My breathing is returning to normal, and I level a glare at him.

    He shoots me a grin. “Already told ya Metz- don’t have one.” He continues towards the bar. “You ever been hit Metz?”

    I had begun to follow him, but halted when he asked this question. Pinching the bridge of my nose, I sighed out, “Tybalt, I love you to death sweetheart,” the word was scathing as it fell off my tongue, “but what the fuck kind of question is that?”

    He rolls his shoulders by way of shrugging. “When I dom, sometimes my sub is a switch, so I’ll let ‘em get rowdy, fight, maybe bite or smack back. Anythin’ ta please ‘em.”

    I start walking again, humming in thought. “Yeah, a few times. It was kind of nice all things considered.” I stop next to the bar with him, cursing how short I am in comparison to him as he has to call our next round. “Why do you ask?”

    “Just curious.” He takes the drinks from the bartender, flashing them a smile. They return it, flashing a peace sign and returning to cleaning glasses.

    “You’re never ‘just curious’. You plot Lazarus. A lot.” I take the whiskey anyway, sipping as we walk back. “I’ll ask one last time. The fuck is your play?”

    I watch him from behind my glass, going through this glass at a decent pace as well. Finally, he sighs, running a hand through dirty blond hair. “Thought I’d make a proposition. It’s been awhile since I’ve gotten down an’ dirty, an’ ya _really_ seem ta need that change in scenery. Ya trust me, yeah?”

    I nod. Alcohol must be getting to me for me to agree. Fuck.

    “Let me be your dom for the night then.” He can’t be serious. His tone says he is. But he can’t be. He finally takes a sip of his scotch. If it weren’t for his higher tolerance, I’d assume he’s drunk based on that statement.

    Maybe I am?

    He sighs once more. “Metz, I need a yes or no. Ya know I won’t do anythin’ without consent, but you’re also lookin’ at me like you’re considerin’.”

    After a few moments of silence I laugh. “Y’know what Lazarus, why not? Let’s try your idea. I’ll be your sub, on one condition of course.”

    He nods, leaning forward. “Name it. Ya technically run it after all.”

    I wave my hand dismissively. “Yeah, yeah. Just… Treat me like it’s my first time. Like you’re introducing me to the scene. No toys, minimal bindings, all that jazz. Alright?”

    His head bobs again and he walks to my side. “I can do that hon.” He pulls me up easily and hooks a finger under my chin again. I find myself leaning into him and pushing myself higher. “Ya won’t regret it.”

    “Better not or you’re getting it Laz.” My voice is soft, less harsh than usual.

    He just grins.

~~~

    We head back to my place- it’s closer and he picked me up, so it makes sense. On the way, we make small talk about anything, and I agree that a safeword is probably necessary. He knows what I use with my subs, so we go with that.

    The moment the door closes and I move to slip off my shoes and put my overcoat on the coat rack, he’s crowding me again. “Here’s the rules hon.”

    I groan and he grins. “If I say ‘jump’, ya say ‘how high sir’. No sass. Nothin’ but respect when referrin’ ta me. Tonight _I’m_ leadin’. Don’t let yourself think otherwise.”

    I sigh, returning to my shoes. He pulls me up by my brown hair. Not hard enough to hurt, but enough that I don’t want to fight. “You know this. Do you understand.”

    “Yes sir.” My response is straightforward, and he releases my hair, letting me return to my footwear, as he handles his own. As soon as his are off, he pulls me up into a kiss that I instantly melt into. I’d be damned if I admitted the rough treatment was kind of nice.

    My hands bury themselves in his shaggy locks, tugging in the slightest.

    He pulls back from the kiss. “No tuggin’. That’s my job.”

    I roll my eyes and go back to kissing him, moving my hands to rest on his hips instead. He grunts in approval, a hand moving to grasp one of my breasts and squeeze. He pulls back again, a single word falling from his lips. “Strip.”

    After a moment's hesitation I comply, slipping off my clothing piece by piece.

    There’s a certain hunger in his eyes as he watches me do this.

    I cross my arms over my chest and glance up at him defiantly. Sure, I had agreed to sub, but he wasn’t exactly leading well.

    In a flash, my hands are above my head, and he’s kissing along my neck. One hand is holding my wrists in place, the other moving to tweak a nipple. Damn, maybe he _is_ good at his job.

    He bites down on my neck and I groan quietly. Fuck, that _does_ feel good.

    “Hah, Tybalt-” he cuts me off with a growl. “Sir,” I start again, “can we go to my bedroom now? Please?” Here I am ass-naked against my front door trying not to dominate the tall, tan man, and he’s just biting my neck and- _ooh_ , that’d be a mouth on my neglected breast.

    He pulls back, hands moving to my hips and teasing towards my folds. My own, now free of his grasp, fling to his hair once more. He halts, clicking his tongue. “Can’t let ya free for even one moment, can I?” He grabs a scarf from my coat rack, and the next thing I know my face is against my front door, hands being fastened together behind my back.

    That fuckass.

    I don’t get the time to comment as he picks me up and carries me to my bedroom. He tosses me onto my bed, gently enough that my restrained arms won’t be hurt, and I glance up to find him discarding his own clothing, left in naught but his dog tags.

    He looks good.

    Muscles ripple beneath his torso and upper body as he positions me against my headboard and I stare at the sheets below me, at my stomach, at anything but this devilish man with broad shoulders that has the fucking _audacity_ -

    “Ya remember how the rest o’ this works right?” The words snap me out of my thoughts. His voice has grown deep, a bit husky. He must be enjoying this.  
    I tug at my restraints and glance up at him, a slight frown on my face. “Of course I fucking do-“   
    He cuts me off with a smack against my thigh. I bite my lip to hide the fact that, shit, that actually felt nice. “A ‘yes sir’ would work just as well Metz.”   
    A small huff through my nose and I relax my body enough to close my eyes and mutter, “Yes sir.”   
    “Louder.”   
    “Why the fuck would I-“   
    Another smack, a small gasp from me.   
    “Yes sir!”   
    “Good girl.”   
    I glance at him. His eyes are hooded as they rove over my body approvingly. As it stands- well, lays I suppose, I’m currently laid out before the man, legs spread and bent, and arms behind my back with the scarf keeping them bound to one another. Why the fuck did I agree to this again?   
    He smacks my inner thigh again. “I asked ya a question.”   
    Shit. That’s why. That felt good. “I’m sorry _sir_ , but I don’t think I heard you.” My tone is certainly snippy like it normally would be. Maybe I shouldn’t do that with the way it’s been going?   
    Another hit confirms my thought. Well shit. “First, tone. I could easily leave ya here- in fact, ya should be gracious I offered ta do this Metz.”   
    I bite my tongue to keep from another snippy remark. As much as I love that harsh feeling so far, I’m fairly sure I’m bruising.   
    He glares at me.   
    “Yes sir.”   
    “Good.” He continues, trailing up my leg to where the skin was red and stinging. “You remember your safe word right?”   
    “Of cou-“ Shit that hurts! The gentle hand had instead hit the same spot. I swallow a moan. That shouldn’t... That feels too good. Better than anything I’ve ever felt while in _his_ position. “Yes sir, Tybalt.”   
    “Remind me of it?” A mischievous grin has overtaken his features. “I like the sound o’ that. Sir Tybalt is also allowed.”   
    “It’s ‘blood’ sir.” That thing I don’t want to see on this first go around. If I like it enough, I might be open to it in the future, but first...   
    Hazel eyes lock with my own gray ones as a gentle kiss is laid on the sensitive skin of my upper leg. “Good. Then let’s begin.”   
    Oh god.

    A hand ghosts over my stomach and moves to my plush hips, gripping them in a bruising manner. I squirm in the slightest, biting my cheek.

    He chuckles and leans forward to kiss along my collarbone. “Y’know,” he says in between kisses, “for someone who has ta be in control, ya sure are… Pliant.”

    I glare down at him. “Fuck-” I stop speaking as he bites down where his lips had been moments prior. I let at out a quiet gasp instead.

    The bite slowly turns into him sucking a hickey into my pale, freckled skin. He pulls back. “Sugar, ya make it too easy for me ta show ya the discipline side o’ all this.”

    He has a shit-eating grin that I both want to wipe off his face, and kiss as he forces me further into the soft mattress beneath me. I go for trying to get option two going, seeing as my need for him is currently growing.

    I bite my lip and give him my best pleading looking, angling my head to have some of my hair fall in front of my eyes. “I’m sorry sir. It’s just so hard to break all my habits, y’know?”

    His grin morphs into mix of amusement and… Pleasure? Yeah. That.

    “Ya ain’t gettin’ off that easy Metz, although I appreciate the attempt.”

    I bite my tongue to keep from cursing.

    “I’ll cut ya a deal sugar.” At this I perk up. “No cursin’ me out in the next few minutes, an’ I’ll put my own tongue ta good use.” I start to nod and he holds up a hand. “But,” I tense up, “if ya _do_ , ya get punished. Easy enough?”

    I nod fully, then remember to say, “Yessir Tybalt.”

    He himself bobs his head, dipping it back to my neck. His tongue pokes out between his pink, slightly kiss bruised lips, and drags along my upper body, moving to one of my nipples. His hands begin stroking my sides, blunt nails dragging along them.

    I let my head fall back and groan softly, feeling my folds begin to grow wet.

    Why the fuck is this nice?

    He lathes the perky bud in spit, then leans down fully to suck at it. One hand moves to my unattended breast, rolling it. The other wanders south, over my stomach-

    “Fuck yes, that’s where you’re supposed to go.” It’s quiet, whispered. Supposed to be in my head really.

    Cold air hits my body and I hear a wet pop. That devilish tongue clicks. “That counts sugar.”

    I glance up as he moves off me enough to flip me over. I lay on my cheek, shifting my arms against the scarf fabric. Fuck.

    A featherlight touch moves over my ass. “Count.”

    “Wha-” I halt in my sentence, gasping as the fucker smacks my ass.

    … That was kind of nice.

    He growls. “I said ta count.” His voice is deeper, accent thicker, dripping with authority and a promise to do worse.

    “O-one sir.” Shit, I stuttered. Holy hell it stings. I sway my ass and push it against his hand.

    He takes this opportunity to land another blow. “T-two!”

    He continues to hit my ass, and I bite my lip after saying the word ‘nine’. He strokes along my back. “One more.”

    I simply push back into his touch in response.

    The last blow is the hardest, and I moan out the word ‘ten’. Tears are in my eyes and goddamn does that area hurt, but it feels so fucking nice.

    I kind of like this.

    Suddenly, a finger is pushing apart my folds and burying deep inside me. I groan softly, pushing my body back onto the appendage.

    It’s removed almost as quickly as it entered, and I’m rolled back over. “Seems ya liked that. Did ya sugar?”

    I nod. “Yessir.”

    The finger is placed in front of my face, poking at my lips in the slightest. My hooded eyes fall closed as I take it into my mouth and suck it clean of my juices.

    Well, there’s all my pride on the floor.

    His free hand pets my face. “Good girl. Was that so hard?” He removes the finger so I can answer.

    “No sir.” My voice is now soft, compliant even. My usual bite is gone.

    He grins, hand moving back towards my folds. “Now ya’re learnin’.” I follow his movements with my eyes and only just now notice his fully erect member, a bright red from what I assume to be all of the blood in his body pumping there at once.

    It’s beautiful. I want it.

    Gotta ask nicely.

    I look at him. “Sir, may I suck you off?”

    He nods, moving forward and sitting me up. The head of his cock pokes at my lips. “Go right ahead sugar.”

    I let the tip slide past my lips and hum softly. This was always my favorite thing to do, and it shows as I force down my gag reflex and take all of him into my mouth.

    A hand threads through my hair, holding it away from my face as I move along his dick, swirling and wrapping my tongue around him as I go. He grunts quietly, and I hum around him in approval. Perfect.

    He stills my head. “Hope you’re ready sugar.” His voice is light and airy, and he strokes my hair.

    And then, with a snap of his hips, he’s thrusting into my mouth as if it were instead my core. He moans above me, growling out, “G-good girl.” I simply ensure my lips are tight around him, and hum occasionally to allow vibrations to roll through his length.

    His pace increases, and I chuckle internally. He’s going to finish quickly at this rate.

    He pulls out when his pace begins to stutter, and instead uses his hand to pull at himself in front of my face, spurts of cum landing anywhere from my forehead to my neck. “Shit- Metz!” The exclamation is loud, louder than he was whenever we worked together in the field and-

    Fuck this is hot. I’m moaning, aren’t I? Yeah. I moan as he finishes, licking at the cum near my mouth. He sits back and wipes near my eyes. I slowly allow them to open, onyx meeting hazel once more, though his pupils are blown wide enough that I can barely see the kaleidoscope irises.

    He leans forwards and licks my face clean slowly. Between laps of his tongue, he whispers to me. “You’re such a good girl when ya try. S’like ya were meant for this Metz. God, I’ve always wanted ta do that. You’re such a fine young thing, and I’ve always wanted to ask ya ta be my sub, but you never would before.”

    The words fall from his lips fast, as if he’s trying to force them out, and I glance to his once again half-hard member. Everything he’s saying is pushing all the right buttons, and I exhale shakily.

    “Permission to curse sir?” I meet his gaze as I ask this.

    He nods, a questioning look sparkling in his irises.

    “Please fuck me.”

    He groans and suddenly I’m face down again. “Ya clean? Still on the pill.”

    I go to nod, then remember our deal. “Yessir Tybalt.”

    “Good. I want ta feel ya this first time.” And then, he’s plunging his fingers deep into my folds. I moan softly and sway my hips, surprised when he doesn’t stop me with a bruising grip.

    “S-sir?”

    No response, outside a huff and a rumbling moan from the large man.

    I inhale through my nose and try to still my movements.

    A hand is suddenly gripping my curvaceous ass, and his hand retreats from my heat, fingers instead near my puffy lips.

    “Lick.”

    I comply, sucking at his digits as if my life depended on it.

    Fuck my pride.

    He groans and retracts his hand, it moving to mirror it’s pair on the other side of my butt.

    And then he’s pushing into my heat, a moan surfacing from his very core.

    “For someone who does this for a livin’, ya sure are tight sugar.”

    I wiggle my hips against him. “Then loosen me up sir.” There’s my sass again. Fuck.

    He starts moving, and with a snap of his hips, mutters, “Don’t ya worry, I’ll do just that.” He smacks my ass and leans forward, laying over me until he can whisper in my ear, “And you’ll damn well enjoy my hittin’ ya as punishment for that sassy remark.”

    He sets a steady speed of pistoning his hips after that, and I’m left a moaning, gasping mess beneath him. A mixture of his name, colorful curse words, and the word sir fall from my lips, his hand landing upon my backside for each curse.

    I moan louder.

    “You like that slut?”

    Oh _god_ that’s hotter than it should be.

    “Y-yessir.” My voice is high-pitched, needy, and I cry out as he hits me once more.

    “Then let me put ya in yer place.”

    His pace quickens and he claws or smacks my backside with reckless abandon. With each hit, my voice rises in pitch until I’m simply whining his name, and then- then I’m seeing stars and tumbling over an edge I haven’t hit in ages. The world fades around me as I feel nothing but pleasure, coming undone beneath the man who was once, and appears to still be, my superior.

    I do my best not to collapse forward, and he stills within me as my cunt tightens around his member, moaning my own name out. I can feel him pulse inside me, my lower lips milking him for all his worth, and he pulls out and falls beside me upon completion.

    I finally allow myself to fall.

    I can feel his fingers working at the scarf still around my wrists, and suddenly they’re freed, and I’m being pulled into an embrace.

    Oh right. Aftercare.

    His hand ghosts over where he had been smacking me minutes prior, and he buries his nose into my hair. “Thanks Metz.” He’s breathless. He sounds satisfied.

    “Sure Tybalt. Thank me.” I slowly roll over and face him, a faint smile on my features. “I should thank you.”

    He kisses me gently. “Thank me by restin’ up sugar.”

    I allow my eyes to fall shut and slowly drift off in his warm embrace.

    Perhaps we could do this again sometime.

    Even if my pride is on the floor.


End file.
